Beast
by saradoodle
Summary: She was beautiful, he was a monster, two polar opposites who turn each others lives around. A Bleach Beauty and the Beast. UlquiHime.
1. Chapter 1

A Bleach Beauty and the Beast

I got this idea a few months ago from having a Disney Movie Night with some friends. Beauty and the Beast was my third favorite Disney movie growing up, right behind Tarzan and The Lion King. While I was watching the movie and simultaneously dealing with a bunch of giggling girls, I thought of how this could relate to the relationship between Ulquiorra and Orihime.

But then I thought "I'm sure someone on has done this before, so why should I do it?" I didn't want to be predictable. So... I researched the original book along with any other film/book/television adaptation of the Fairytale and devised my own take on the Beauty and the Beast story that in a sense relates to all the different versions I've found.

**Quick Disclaimer:** I will only say this once, but I do not own any of the characters or ideas presented in this story.

So, without further adieu, I present: _Beast_.

* * *

"'Twas beauty that killed the beast..."

**- King Kong, 1933**

.

.

Beast

The Beauty and the Beast

.

The morning of the 'incident', as many servants in the household would come to call it, was just as average and uneventful as any other morning. The sun shone through the east widows, presenting natural lighting throughout the many rooms and hallways of the fortress, and a small breeze was floating through the castle grounds.

It was a large building, constructed mere meters from the edge of a cliff, the backyard gardens overlooking a large and beautiful canyon. The grey-bricked attraction could be seen for miles in any direction, its single large tower distinctly visible over the treetops of the forest it was located in. The closest town was almost a day away by carriage so the castle was almost completely cut off from the world. Hardly anyone came knocking on its large, mahogany doors, and just was good considering how cold the master of the household was – it was highly unlikely he would assist any weary traveler that was desperate enough to call on him for aid.

Yes, Ulquiorra was a pitiless, passionless young lord, who would rather cut off his own hand than do anything for anyone besides himself. He was spoiled, pampered, and coddled by his mother as a child and – once he inherited his family's riches along with the Cifer Palace – his servants. He had no friends, he never saw the need for any, and was perfectly content with his self-inflicted solitude.

Despite his repellent persona, many women found him attractive. He stood at an average height, and had a good set of muscles on him in spite of his thin frame. His dark hair fell down his neck and framed his young face, contrasting against his rather fair skin, but it was his eyes that expressed his true nature – those bright, glowing emeralds. They were what conveyed his true personality, for he had managed to make eyes that were such a peaceful color look unwelcomingly ominous.

His voice was just as unnerving. The vocalization was flat and monotonous, and he made it his duty to demoralize anyone who spoke to him ignorantly, for he hated ignorance. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of stupidity and childishness.

Though, he did have his upsides.

Ulquiorra cared about nothing – nothing at all – except for his garden. Every morning, including that fateful spring morning, he would wake with the rising sun and order his servants to dress him. They'd help him into his pants and button his shirt. They'd slip on his jacket and adjust his cuffs, and as soon as they were finished he would walk outside of him room – take a right, another right, down the stairs, then a left – and enter his gardens.

This time of year the garden was abundantly filled with every flower and herb and vegetable one could imagine. A few apple and peach trees grew on the edge of the premises; tomatoes and cucumbers grew in an area along with other vegetables the cooks would use to make meals. Rosemary grew in small pots just outside the door.

Though, Ulquiorra preferred the flowers. They were his, for it was the only thing he was willing to take care of without the assistance of a servant. He picked up a small watering spout, which was already filled to the brim, and walked over to the large bushes.

He sprinkled water over the Casa Blanca Lily's and the Ghost Flowers. The Iris's glistened under the light shower and sparkled in the sunlight, but it was the Roses that Ulquiorra took the most care with.

He sat on a stone bench in front of the rose bushes once he had finished watering them, the sun already climbing into the cloudy sky. The air smelled musky and humid, and Ulquiorra inwardly sighed, not wanting to experience a rainy evening.

Ulquiorra leaned forward; running his thumb over a red rose petal nonchalantly, admiring its beauty, before he felt one of his other fingers prick a thorn and quickly jerked his hand back to his side.

_Beautiful, but deadly_, he thought, examining his pricked finger. A small drop of blood had gathered on his ring finger, but he knew it wouldn't be too serious of an injury.

"Good morning, sir!" A loud voice barked from the castle, the deep voice sounding all too familiar to Ulquiorra who closed his eyes in an attempt to control himself then turned to face his personal servant.

Grimmjow had been by his side for years, since before Ulquiorra had gained his inheritance, and while the man had been continuously friendly and cheerful to the young lord, he received no sort of acceptance in return. Nonetheless, Grimmjow remained enthusiastic, hopeful that one day the young lord would give him a word of thanks.

Grimmjow was only three years older than Ulquiorra, yet the age difference in the physical aspect looked remarkable. He towered over the young master who did not like being looked down upon by anyone, especially his own servant. Ulquiorra especially did not like the flamboyant look of the older man either. He thought his bright blue hair was too bright and his toothy smile too jolly.

But he managed with the man, by either ignoring his immature comments or blatantly putting him down whenever he suggesting something childish.

Ulquiorra stood, placing his hands behind him, straightening his back and lifting his chin as the servant walked up to him.

"Good morning, Jeagerjaques."

"Oh, come on, Ulquiorra-"

"Do not call me that."

"Fine. _Lord Cifer,_ you know I would much rather you call me by my first name," Grimmjow smiled, bowing towards the young lord, "You've known me for over ten years. Shouldn't we be on better terms by now?"

Ulquiorra glared at him, as if saying how preposterous of a notion that was, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He decided to not answer the question, and instead excused himself by saying, "I need to catch up on my reading."

He was about to open the large doors into the castle when Grimmjow appeared, once again, at his side.

"Look, _sir, _I know that when we were young you were rather harsh to me, but I always thought that by now you'd be a bit kinder. I had always hoped you would consider me as a… a sort of friend."

Ulquiorra stopped in place, looking at Grimmjow with indifference on his features.

"First of all, Jeagerjaques, I have never, nor will I ever, want or need a friend in my life. You know that better than anyone in this castle. Secondly, even if the time did come that I felt lonely and needed the companionship you speak of, you would be the last person I would come to." He said, his expression not faltering. The two men stood there for a moment or two – Ulquiorra's stoic face against Grimmjow's shocked features – before Ulquiorra decided he needed somewhere else to be and marched off.

Grimmjow watched his master walk off and once he was sure the young lord was out of hearing-range, he sighed and said, "Damn, what a prick."

* * *

The kitchens were bustling with activity as the many chefs worked to create a sublime dinner for their master. Among these cooks include a young woman by the name of Neliel, who had worked in the Cifer household for only a few months. Yet, she was an exceptional cook and, out of all the other chefs that stayed in the castle, she was the one Ulquiorra favored.

No, it was not in a romantic sense that Ulquiorra admired her, but for the fact that before she arrived at the castle he found many of the food dishes bland and tasteless. He enjoyed how she would experiment with different spices and herbs, adding much more flavor to the foods they would serve him, and thus appointed her head chef only a short while after her inception.

Ulquiorra wasn't the only one in the castle who favored the hazel-eyed beauty. Grimmjow had taken a hobby to visit her in the kitchen many times a day, if only to speak in cheerful conversation. The moment she had entered the fortress, she had caught the blue-eyed servants attention. He was drawn to her, found her pale green hair exotic and her plump bosom alluring. Countless nights he had dreamed of his hands roaming along her hourglass figure and his lips against her creamy neck, but he was a gentleman. He could treat any other woman like a plaything, but Neliel was different.

She was preparing Ulquiorra's lunch when Grimmjow had decided a visit to the kitchens would suffice his frustration with his master, for Neliel was a woman of reason and honesty and, above all, an excellent listener.

"Good afternoon, Nel," Grimmjow said as he walked into the kitchen, seeing Neliel hard at work. She looked over at the servant who strode up to her, a friendly smile on his face.

_His smiles are contagious,_ she thought as her lips turned up in a grin. "Hello, Grimmjow. How is everything out in the castle?"

Grimmjow sighed, leaning against a counter top as Neliel turned back to her work, preparing a lovely lunch plate for the young lord.

"Well…" Grimmjow started, but Neliel interrupted him.

"Oh, that doesn't sound too good," She laughed, "Is Ulquiorra being mean to you again."

"You have no idea," Grimmjow scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the floor, "I try to be nice to him, his whole fucking life, in fact, and yet he continues to be a little bitch about everything…"

"Language, Grimmjow," Neliel scolded playfully, "Just give him time. He'll warm up to you-"

"It's been twelve years, Neliel!" Grimmjow growled, walking up to her in anger, "It would have happened by now, but the little prick has something stuck up his ass."

Grimmjow's rage did not cause Neliel to hesitate in her calm demeanor. She stopped her work, and turned to him, placing a hand on his cheek and staring into his furious eyes.

"Ulquiorra is different than most, Grimmjow. He doesn't understand the joys of companionship, but instead finds solitude in his books and flowers. Yes, he is a cold man, but one day he will have a revelation and realize that he gains nothing from being so detached from the world. Give him patience, Grimmjow… you both need it."

Grimmjow looked at hear, calmed by her soothing voice as she spoke. She really was a marvelous woman, he thought, as he placed his hand over hers, keeping it against his face. How right she was, he thought, for he knew that Ulquiorra could not spend his whole lifetime as the ghost of the palace.

"Thank you, Nel," Grimmjow said to the young woman, who smiled lovingly at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, an embrace that Grimmjow gladly returned. The two of them stood there for what felt like hours, and when Neliel finally drew back Grimmjow felt discouraged, for he wanted to remain in that position for longer.

"Grimmjow, could you do me a quick favor?" Neliel asked.

"Anything."

"Could you fetch Stark? Ulquiorra's lunch is ready."

* * *

Ulquiorra sat in his large chair in the den, staring aimlessly at the burning fire in front of him. The flames cracked and danced in the fireplace causing an orange glow that illuminated the young lords features.

The door behind him opened, and footsteps were heard, becoming louder as the servant walked closer to Ulquiorra. The clink of dishes sounded as the servant placed the lunch on the wooden table next to Ulquiorra's chair.

The green eyed man turned to see his butler, Stark, placing and arranging the small plates and cups in an appealing way. Stark was an older man, someone who had worked for the Cifer family for years, just as his father had, and his grandfather. His hair was dark brown and slicked back out of his eyes. He sported a small beard, of which Ulquiorra thought didn't suit a butler very well, yet he never voiced this – he didn't see the need to.

"Good afternoon, my lord," Stark said lazily. Ulquiorra nodded in response. "Neliel prepared you some lovely roast duck with grilled tomatoes and potatoes, and a hint of rosemary."

Ulquiorra watched his butler scoot the splendid display of duck towards him. "Thank you, Stark," He said, "How is your daughter?"

"Lilynette is doing fine, sir," Stark said. Ulquiorra nodded in response yet again, knowing that the young girl lived in the palace as well. Stark had been married, once, a long time ago but his wife had died in childbirth, leaving with Stark a young baby girl. Lilynette was just a young girl when Ulquiorra became master of the house, so she had been around the castle for most of her life.

"Tea, my lord?"

"Yes."

Stark poured a generous amount of tea into the small teacup and handed it to the young lord, who took it graciously, taking a generous sip of the warm liquid.

"Would you like anything else, sir?"

"No. This is fine, thank you." Ulquiorra said once he had swallowed, dismissing his butler who bowed before sauntering out of the room. Ulquiorra set his tea down, picking up the plate and a small silver fork, beginning to slowly eat the roast duck. He looked up to the large portrait hanging over the mantle place, the fire burning underneath it.

It was a large portrait of the Cifer heir, himself, from the waist up. He stood straight backed in the painting, his right hand placed carefully on a pedestal, his left hand holding the collar of his jacket. The portrait's eyes glowed eerily green, looking out upon the large room, his dark hair falling down his neck and onto his shoulders.

Ulquiorra took another sip of his tea, admiring the painting of his sixteen-year old self in front of him. It made him feel powerful, the portrait, of which was painted by one of his parent's friends.

He sighed, setting his teacup on the table adjacent to him. His parent's were gone, he thought, feeling suddenly saddened. They had left the castle many years ago in order to travel the world, and he was sure that it would take many years – decades, even – for them to return. They trusted him with the Cifer household, and thus presented him with his inheritance at an early age, and left the young lord alone with his servants at the age of sixteen.

Before his parents had left, the Cifer family was well known and well liked. The husband and wife had hosted many royal parties and banquets in their home, including weddings and birthdays, but everyone always found their only son to be a little bit strange.

Ulquiorra was nothing like his parents, even as a young boy. He was very silent when company was over, and only spoke when directly addressed. His mother spent years trying to get him to open up and make friends by showering him with attention and gifts, yet he continued to remain detached.

His father, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong with his son's behavior. He would say that his silence would, one day, make him a good leader, that his lack of spontaneity made him a deep thinker, a good strategist, and forced him to grow up more than he needed.

Maybe that was why Ulquiorra was such a cold twenty-one year old man, for he never really had a childhood. The only person he ever met that was anywhere close to his own age was Grimmjow, who was twelve when he was appointed Ulquiorra's personal servant. The young lord was nine at the time. Even at the young age, Grimmjow would be very kind to the young boy, always suggesting a game of hide and seek in the gardens or within the castle, always wanting to explore the large fortress, yet Ulquiorra continuously refused and instead read the days away.

Books became the closest thing to a friend for him.

Ulquiorra finished his lunch and called for a maid to collect the dishes, deciding to stand up and browse the many shelves of books for something to pass the time.

* * *

The servant's quarters were placed on the second floor of the castle, which was where the servants spent their time when their master was not calling on them. Stark was one of the servants who actually spent all his time – rather than in the common room chatting with other servants – sleeping.

And keeping his daughter out of trouble.

Lilynette was a very hyperactive girl, being eleven years old; she loved running around and causing mischief. The only reason Ulquiorra had yet to hear of the young girls adventures was because Stark was very good at keeping her from doing anything too damaging to the castle or to herself.

Currently, Stark was dozing on the small couch, vaguely listening to Neliel and his daughter as they engaged each other in conversation.

"And then the butterfly landed on my finger! It was the coolest thing in the world, Ms. Nel!" Lilynette said, waving her arms around in excitement as she recalled her outdoor fun from earlier that day. Neliel giggled into her hand at the young girl. Every servant in the castle loved Lilynette for her youthful excitement and joy, a trait that was hardly seen throughout the palace. She was girlish and everyone enjoyed her company.

Everyone, except Ulquiorra, of course, who merely just _tolerated_ her.

"You must have had a lovely day, Lilynette," Neliel said to the young girl who was jumping up and down in joy.

"It was! It was!" Lilynette said as she ran around the room. Stark, as if knowing of his daughters excited emotions, sat up slightly.

"Stop running, dear. You'll get hurt." He said before collapsing back onto the couch. Lilynette looked at him and pouted before she realized he could not see her facial expression. She then turned to Neliel.

"Ms. Nel, I was wondering… why can't I ever go play in the North Tower?"

Neliel looked at her with wide eyes, surprised of the question but knowing quite well where the young girl's curiosity had come from. The North Tower was something that was silently forbidden to speak of, yet people would whisper of the building in secret when no one else – especially the master of the house – was around.

Neliel, herself, had never even seen the doors to the tower since she had never found the curiosity to go searching for it, nor had she stumbled upon it unknowingly. She knew that it acted as a sort of attic for the master of the house, who would store his old yet personal belongings. For this reason, he would get enraged when he found that someone had entered the North Tower. He found the act to be an invasion of his privacy.

Neliel sighed, preparing herself for an abundance of 'why's from the young girl. "Well Lilynette, it's because Sir Ulquiorra doesn't want anyone to go up there."

"Why not?" Lilynette asked with child-like innocence.

"I…" Neliel said, thinking about how to retort, "I'm not sure. Just, please, don't go up there and don't go looking for it. Sir Ulquiorra would kick you out of this house for sure if he caught you up there."

Lilynette looked defeated as her eyes cast downwards to her palms. "Oh… okay Ms. Nel." She said quietly. Suddenly, her face shot up in excitement and she looked at Neliel again.

"If we can't go into the North Tower, then can we go back outside? Please, Ms. Nel!" She wined, clasping her hands together as if begging. Neliel smiled down at her and ruffled the young girl's hair.

"I'm afraid we cannot. It's started to sprinkle a bit outside, and there is lightening in the distance." Neliel replied to the discouraged girl who frowned and took a seat on one of the chairs, crossing her arms.

"I sure hope Shiro doesn't get caught in the storm," Neliel mused out loud, causing Stark to open one of his closed eyes.

"I agree. I need him back alive, I'm running out of my ale." Stark said, causing Neliel to laugh. She found it strange that Stark cared more about his booze than his fellow servant.

"Yes, I am running out of food ingredients as well, Stark, but really, Paris is a long way's away. I just hope he doesn't get into trouble on the way home." Neliel said, worried about the young albino who would regularly help her out in the kitchen and who, at the moment, was picking up supplies from the beautiful city of Paris. Stark scoffed.

"I would be surprised if he _didn't_ get into trouble with that mouth of his," Stark said, closing his eyes, "I'm sure he'll be fine, Neliel. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"I guess you're right," Neliel said quietly, ending the conversation. Lilynette had not been listening at all, instead was looking longingly out the window. Her eyebrows furrowed as raindrops began to hit against the small window, creating a calming _pitter-patter _of noise.

"I hate rainy days," The young girl said. Neliel looked at her, nodding in agreement.

"Me too, Lilynette. Me too."

* * *

Ulquiorra had refused dinner that night, not feeling hungry for anything in particular. Instead he sat in the foyer, reading the same book he had picked out from his den earlier in the day. He was already halfway done with the thick novel after only a few hours of reading and had not yet seen the need to take a break.

Grimmjow had walked into the foyer in search of the young lord, glad that he now had stumbled upon his master. Lightening struck outside the windows, lighting up the room, yet Ulquiorra did not look up from his book.

"It's raining rather hard out there, isn't it, sir?" Grimmjow said, walking up to the couch Ulquiorra was seated on. The young lord continued reading, turning a page nonchalantly.

"I am reading, Jeagerjaques," Ulquiorra said, slightly annoyed.

"Yes, my apologies," Grimmjow said in a kind tone, though his face did not look kind at all, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted in aggravation. "I just wanted to come and see if you needed anything, _Lord Cifer_."

Still not looking up from his book, Ulquiorra spoke, "It would be lovely if you could have someone run my bath for me, Jeagerjaques."

"Yes sir. Right away, sir." Grimmjow replied, walking out of the room. Before he exited, though, he turned to glance back at the young lord with a pitying look on his face. He watched the young lord for a few moments as he read his book, his eyes cold as they scanned the pages. Grimmjow sighed, then turned his back to go find a maid to start the bath, not knowing that it would be the last time he would see his master in a normal state.

Ulquiorra licked his finger and turned another page, just as another bolt of lightning flashed across the night sky, illuminating the room. Rain could be heard heavily beating on the roof and windows of the fortress, creating a sort of natural lullaby.

Underneath all the pitter-patter of rain, Ulquiorra thought he heard a small knock on the large mahogany doors behind him. He dismissed it, thinking it was his imagination, and looked back down at his book.

Another lightning strike, then another knock, this one louder and more distinct. Ulquiorra was sure someone was at the door of his palace, but thought that a maid or servant who was cleaning nearby would hear it and hurry to answer the door. By the third knock, Ulquiorra realized that he was the only one who heard the visitor at the door and, displeased with his interruption, marked the page in his book and stood to answer the door.

Ulquiorra tried to remain inside his household as to not get wet from the showers as he opened the large entrance doors to his palace. He looked down, faced with a hunched figure, surrounded by a dark cloak. The person turned their face upward, revealing a wrinkled, womanly face, causing Ulquiorra to cringe in disgust, for she was a rather ugly creature.

"Good evening, kind sir," The old woman croaked in a hoarse voice, "I am very, very lost. Would you mind sparing a room for the evening?"

Ulquiorra looked at her, puzzled, as she reached into her cloak to pull out a single, beautiful rose.

"I am willing to give this lovely flower in return, good sir," She said, her glassy eyes looking hopefully at the young lord. It was a beautiful flower, Ulquiorra admitted to himself, but she was such a strange looking person he would rather not have her stay in his palace. If she looked more… appealing, he may have allowed her entry, but he didn't trust her for he had no idea if she was a thief or a murderer. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, Madame, but I have enough roses. I need no more. Besides, I am very against allowing travelers into my home. Especially ones so…" Ulquiorra paused, looking at her up and down with his emerald eyes, "haggish."

The woman looked taken aback as he said this, then her eyes squinted in a scowl. She shook a thin, wrinkled finger at him, "You must learn, boy, that beauty is not skin deep! Would you, please, let me in?"

Ulquiorra ignored her, thinking her crazy as he readied to close the door in the woman's face, "I must tend to my castle. Good evening, woman-"

He stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the old hag had begun to glow slightly, a shining a blue light emitting from her skin. The age melted off of her face as she removed the cloak to reveal a completely different woman - and she was beautiful. Her black hair hung down to her shoulders, a single strand falling down the middle of her face between her two, large, violet eyes and while her figure was rather flat, she was thin and appealing. She floated there for a moment or two before setting her feet onto the ground, and while it was pouring rain outside, she remained dry, as if it was an average, spring day.

Ulquiorra stumbled backwards, falling onto the floor of his foyer.

"Forgive me, my lady," Ulquiorra said, "I had no idea-"

"Of course you didn't," She scolded him, "That was the point." She walked into his house without invitation, glowing brightly, illuminating the entire room with a pale blue glow. She looked down on the young lord, her nose wrinkled in disgust, "My name is Rukia Kuchiki," She began, "And you, Ulquiorra Cifer, are the most selfish, despicable man I have ever met! You'd rather serve yourself than others, and you look only at appearances rather than the heart."

Ulquiorra bent on his knees and clasped his hands together, "Please!" He begged, feeling fear for the first time he could recall, "I am terribly sorry!"

"It is too late, Ulquiorra," She said, "You have decided your own fate, along with the fate of all who serve in your house. A curse will be set upon this palace, for you will become the beast that you are. The only way you could break this curse is by the love of a woman, the love that comes from the heart and soul. If a woman can look past your appearance and fall for the man you are inside, the curse will be lifted. If, by your twenty-fifth birthday you have not been able to lift this curse, you will remain a beast for all eternity."

Ulquiorra looked at her, stunned, and for the first time in his life felt fear and sorrow and regret. "Please! Just give me another chance!"

She looked down at him and laughed, "Farewell Ulquiorra, and good luck," she said as she walked out of the castle, slamming the door behind her.

Ulquiorra looked stricken, suddenly aware of his situation. He looked around the room, afraid something was going to jump out at him or attack him, yet he could see nothing out of the ordinary. After a minute or two, Ulquiorra was sure that he had hallucinated the entire ordeal, but before he could stand up and clear his mind, he was met with a terrible pain.

It shot up his spine, eliciting a distressed scream from his lips as he felt his bones twisting and turning in his own skin. He fell onto the floor, his back arching and twisting as he continued to scream into the air. He couldn't think about anything except for the pain.

His eyes began to burn, as if they were on fire, and when tears finally fell onto his cheeks he felt the skin on his face burning off as well.

_What sort of magic is this!?_

The pain in his back continued, moving from his lower spine up to his shoulder blades, as if something was stabbing him over and over again in the back. He felt himself getting a headache and as he placed his hand on the top of his head, he couldn't help but scream yet again.

For his hands were met with a pair of bone-like horns.

* * *

"Who is she who looks forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?" **- Song of Solomon 6:10**

* * *

The small village of Ousse-Suzan resided deep within the Forêt des Landes, the largest forest in France. There wasn't much to the small town, a market and a few basic stores – clothing stores, a bookstore, a cobbler's house, and a barber-surgeon. Yes, there were many lovely things in the small, quaint town.

The loveliest, as said by many of the village men, was a young girl of only eighteen by the name of Orihime Inoue. She was petite, a large personality in a small package, with hair the color of the sunset and eyes that sparkled like the stars. Yes, Orihime was _beautiful, _yet, as said by the townsfolk, utterly _strange._

It was the middle of autumn when Orihime walked out of her small cottage on the eastern edge of town and headed for the main street, a small basket and some money in hand. The narrow dirt path soon turned into a wide, brick road with shops and small apartment-like housings. Citizens were out on the streets, merchants selling their food and jewelry and clothing to passerby's, house-wives beating the dust out of carpeting, children chasing each other playfully around the streets and between the buildings. Orihime found herself saying 'hello' to every man, woman, and child she passed, buying bread and cheese and fruits from the venders on the main street.

She would be cheerful and sweet, always friendly to the citizens of Ousse-Suzan. Yet, when she was out of hearing range, the citizens would lean into each other and whisper quietly.

"She's beautiful, isn't she? I'm surprised she isn't married yet!"

"I heard the doesn't _want_ to get married! How peculiar!"

"And she's always holding some kind of book. Does she think she's smarter than us other women!?"

"Oh… I feel sympathy for her brother, having to live with an oddball like her."

It was unknown weather Orihime knew about this gossip or not, yet either way she remained outwardly oblivious to the criticism from the other townsfolk and continued turning down proposals and reading publicly.

Orihime found solace in wandering around the town aimlessly, something she found herself doing almost every day. This particularly warm autumn day brought her to the southern edge of town. Unknowingly, Orihime had guided herself into the grounds of the Ousse-Suzan Asylum; the one place the young girl dreaded the most. Her mother, who died when she was young, had spent the last few years of her life in the dreaded building.

The Asylum was the one place in the town that Orihime absolutely despised – hated, even. She had a few terrible memories in there when she and her elder brother, Sora, would visit her insane mother, who suffered from a terrible mental illness that forced her to have an altered sense of reality. Yet, it wasn't always like this. When Orihime was only four years old her father was brutally murdered while traveling, by a thief looking for a horse to ride away on. This incident destroyed her mother, causing her to spiral down into insanity.

Whenever she and Sora had visited, her mother had thought them royalty and would address them as _Lady Inoue and her master servant, Sir Sora, _then try to be as hospitable as possible.

Those memories weren't the only things that haunted her about the Asylum. The residents were frightening and unpredictable, always acting rather strange and rude, yet compared to the warden the resident insane seemed like saints.

His name was Souske Aizen, and while he never acted it, Orihime was sure that he was an evil and cruel man. It was his eyes, she thought, that put her off. While he had appealing features – a nice, professional face, chocolate hair, and good posture – his eyes showed a sort of internal malice and hate. It was as if he felt total dislike for the world and it's inhabitants, as if he wanted nothing but to watch the world burn. To Orihime, Aizen always seemed like he would be the cunning antagonist in one of her stories: the evil wizard, or the fire-breathing dragon, or maybe even the murderous assassin. She hated him, the way he looked at her and the way he spoke to her sent shivers down her spine.

The tall, concrete building loomed over her ominously, casting a dark shadow over the forest treetops. Orihime gasped as she thought more and more of the dreadful memories of the establishment. She placed her hand over her heart, wondering how she could have wandered into this part of the woods.

The Asylum looked just as uninviting and disturbing as it had when she was a young girl and it scared her to death. She half expected for Aizen himself to walk out of the front door, glide down the steps, smile his fake smile and say "_Hello beautiful Ms. Orihime. Here to see your mother, hm?"_

But he didn't. And she prayed that she would never have to see that evil man again. She probably would have stood there longer, mentally cursing the terrible place, but she realized that there was one more place for her to visit: the village bookstore.

She decided to start wandering off back into town, with no true destination, and nothing on her mind except to turn in the book she had borrowed and find another to spend her time reading. Books were Orihime's life, her favorite pastime, and it was the primary reason why she had refused to marry yet.

"Why have a husband when I have all the excitement I need here in these pages?" She would say to her brother, who would smile lovingly and reply with a sweet reply of, "Of course."

Orihime found the town bookstore rather easily, a bell ringing as she opened the door into the small shop. "Hello, Mr. Urahara!" She called to the tall shop owner as she held up the book she had kept in her basket, "I came back to return the book I borrowed!"

"Done, already?" Urahara said as he walked over to her, the blonde man taking the book from out of her hand and placing it on a small desk, "You go through books faster than anyone I've ever met!"

"It get's boring out in the cottage once you finish all the housework!" Orihime said as she skipped to the shelves, scanning the book spines for something she had yet to read, "have you got anything new in?"

Urahara was an older man, yet not at all gray or frail, in fact he was rather healthy. There was nothing strange or unappealing about him, other than his strange tastes of fashion. He would tell people it was the latest trends from Paris, itself, yet that claim was hard to believe. He always wore mix-matched clothing, and no matter what color trousers he had adorned that day, he wore the same green and white striped hat that shaded his face from the sun.

Urahara chuckled at the young girl's enthusiasm, pacing over to his shelves and scanning them with a thin finger, "Hm… no, nothing terribly new at the moment. In fact, I think you've read practically all my books, young lady."

"I'm terribly sorry, sir!" She said quickly, tugging a small book off the shelve, "I guess I'll just get one I've already read. I don't mind it, this one is my favorite, anyways!"

"Really?" Urahara said, a light shining in his eyes. He always thought Orihime as smart, well-rounded girl, and was glad that she had found an excitement in reading. "Well," He continued, "If you love it so much, you can keep it."

Orihime beamed at him, her mouth agape in shock until she smiled widely at him and held the book up to her bosom.

"Oh, really, Mr. Kisuke! You're not just saying that, are you?"

"Of course not. Go ahead, keep it."

She jumped enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck in happiness. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She cried joyfully, quickly unwrapping herself from him and hurrying to rush out the door.

"Goodbye Mr. Kisuke! Have a good day!" She called, waving behind her. Kisuke waved back, shaking his head at the happiness of the young girl.

Orihime decided before walking out of the bookstore that she wanted to begin reading her new book as soon as possible, for it was the first book she had ever officially owned and she was tickled with excitement at the mere thought of it. She sat herself at a small bench alongside one of the roads and opened her book to the first page with gusto. She looked lovingly at the colored page, a drawing of a beautiful princess, protected by a knight who was fighting off an evil-looking dragon. Yet, while she looked longingly at the book and began to read it's pages, she was unaware of a set of chocolate eyes watching her.

Ichigo was only a few years older than Orihime, with bright orange hair and a strong build. He was known as the town hunter, who would bring game back for the many restaurants and meat venders who asked for his assistance, but he was also known as a great warrior, having protected the town from various forms of thievery and criminal acts. His preferred weapon – a long, Japanese sword that he said he had acquired during his travels as a young boy. Though, when needed, he did carry a small pistol on his belt.

Yet, while Ichigo was said to be the most desirable man in the town of Ousse-Suzan, he was rather cocky and full of himself. Years of being admired for his valor and skills as a hunter had caught up to him and made him a stuck up, overly confident twenty-year old. Yet, this did not deter the affection many of the town's young girls who ogled at him longingly as he walked through the city streets.

A young boy, no older than ten or so, would follow Ichigo's every step and order. His name was Kon and he was, in fact, Ichigo's younger cousin, which explained why the two looked as if they could be father and son. Kon was a lovely child, very happy and carefree, yet dedicated to assisting his older cousin who contrarily treated him quite terribly. Nonetheless, Kon continued to look up to Ichigo as if he was a saint.

Kon had noticed his cousin staring at the young Orihime and eventually was able to put two and two together. He smiled mischievously up at the red head.

"Go your eye on Ms. Orihime, huh Ichigo?" Kon said happily, in a teasing tone. Ichigo looked down at the young boy, sort of glaring before his features softened slightly.

"Yes of course." Ichigo said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I think everyone in this god-forsaken town has their eye on her."

"I don't see why not," Kon said, looking at the young girl dreamily, "She's beautiful…"

"And she's too old for you, Kon." Ichigo interrupted, scoffing at his younger cousin who flinched at the redhead's tone. He looked back over to the young girl, who was lost in her book, turning the pages fervently as her eyes darted back and forth. Countless time had Ichigo ask for her hand in marriage, and each time she refused. He couldn't understand it, he couldn't fathom how every woman in the village would do anything to marry him with the exception of _her_.

In a strange sense, it angered him. Yet, he knew that one day she would have to give in – sooner or later she would be his, weather she liked it or not.

"You should go talk to her," Kon said, nudging his cousin in the side, "She's not going anywhere."

Ichigo smiled at the younger, ruffling his hair, "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Always chasing women."

Kon laughed cheerily, "Yeah, but I don't have a chance. You're _the_ Ichigo Kurosaki! Girls fall at your feet!"

"Yes, they do."

"Any women would die to be yours!"

"That is true."

"Then go, get her!"

Kon, having successfully boosting an ego that was already fairly large, watched anxiously as the elder Kurosaki marched towards the reading beauty. Kon hid behind a wooden barrel, watching the scene from a distance.

It was a pastime of Kon's to observe his older cousin, thinking he could learn a few things from the elder Kurosaki – how to hunt, how to fight, how to charm women. Yes, Ichigo was good at all of these things, which is why Kon aspired to be like him, to be the greatest young man in the village.

Orihime was oblivious to the two men who were watching her, too engrossed in her book. It wasn't until the eldest was towering of her, casting a shadow over the pages, that she realized someone was next to her. Reluctantly, the auburn-haired beauty looked up at the figure to see the red-haired hunter grinning down at her.

"Good morning, Ms. Inoue." He said in a sultry voice. Orihime smiled at him politely, only vaguely aware of the glaring eyes of the town's young girls. She knew they were jealous, it was obvious they were, for she was the only girl in the town Ichigo talked to of his own will.

It flattered her that the most egotistic man in Ousse-Suzan would speak to her without acknowledgement, yet it was that same reason that she found him to be… unattractive.

She thought he was handsome, yes, but it was his personality that turned her off. She disliked how completely confidant he was, how he thought he could do anything he wished, and there were stories her brother would tell her. Stories that the hunter would brag about in the tavern, about women he'd been with. That, above all, disgusted her – in her eyes he was a pig.

Yet, she was polite to him, for she was taught to always be polite, no matter how rude or arrogant she thought someone to be.

"Good morning to you too, Ichigo." She said, turning back to her book, uninterested. Ichigo scowled, his smile on his face faltering slightly until he recovered from the young girls incuriosity.

"You look like you're reading something quite… interesting." He said in a feeble attempt to entice conversation.

"Yes. It is very interesting." She said, turning a page of the book nonchalantly. Another wave of silence passed between the two and Ichigo began to feel slightly frustrated, though tried not to show it.

"I think it may also be a bit _interesting_ if you would, perhaps, join me tonight for a nice dinner." Ichigo said casually. Orihime looked at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion, though Ichigo saw this as a gesture to continue, "Think of it as an _apology_ for always attacking you with proposals. I feel remorse for always treating you like an object and, well, I hope that maybe we could get to know each other a bit more-"

"Sorry," Orihime interrupted him, closing her book and standing up, smoothing the front of her skirt as she turned to walk away, "But I would find it much more interesting if I stayed home and caught up on my cleaning. My brother is leaving for the coast this afternoon, you know, and I want to make sure he leaves knowing that I will be safe in an immaculate home."

Ichigo, yet again, felt himself getting frustrated and grabbed a hold of Orihime's shoulder, a bit too forcefully, to stop her. For a moment he glared at her, angry that she would deny his rare bit of hospitality, yet his face relaxed within a second and he chuckled awkwardly.

"Well then, perhaps I could bring dinner to _you_. That way you wouldn't have to leave the safety of your home."

Orihime pulled her arm out of his hand and looked annoyingly at the redhead, "Sorry, Ichigo, but I'd rather not see you in my home tonight, or any night, for that matter. Good day." She said, turning to walk back to the small cottage, leaving a flustered and angry Ichigo in her wake.

* * *

Sora was preparing for his trip, packing the bread and cheese that Orihime had picked up in town that day into a small bag. He had already settled his horse and was prepared to get to the docks to receive the money he gained from his sales across seas. _Those Americans really love wine, _he thought.

Sora was fairly young for such a successful merchant, at the age of twenty-seven. He sustained his and Orihime's life by his selling of various goods and items, though his most triumphant product being the wine he would buy from a friend in a neighboring city. The dark haired man has already gotten in a shipment of wine from his acquaintance and was prepared to leave in haste.

"Hime!" Sora called out to his younger sister, "I'm going to be leaving in a minute." The young auburn haired girl poked her head out from an adjacent room to smile at her brother.

"Are you? Well, be careful, alright brother?" She said, setting down her towel and soap and rushing to envelop her brother in a tight hug. Orihime adored her older brother to death. She thought the absolute world of him, for he was literally the only family she ever had.

"Of course I will be," He said, squeezing her tightly. When they parted he touched one of the two flower hairpins that were stuck in her hair, smiling, "I may have made enough profits to bring you back another gift like these, you know."

The last time Sora had made money off of the wine, he had enough to spare to buy his sister the pair of blue hairpins as something of a surprise when he had returned home. They were the young girl's most prized possessions because of that reason, though she would have never asked for a gift as extravagant as the flower pins.

"Is there anything in particular you would like?" Sora asked his sister, patting her on the head. Orihime usually refused to allow Sora to buy her anything too expensive, for she was a woman who enjoyed the little things rather than the larger ones. She would have wanted nothing more than to see him return safely as a gift, rather than being adorned with gold and jewelry. Yet, she did not want her brother to think she was completely refusing his offer. So, she thought of the single most simplistic thing.

"It would be lovely," The young girl began, "If you could bring me back a single red rose. That would be the greatest present you could give me, Sora."

He smiled down at his younger sister, giving her a kiss on the forehead, "That sounds like a lovely idea," He said as he pulled on his coat and went for the door. Orihime followed her brother outside, to see him off. She watched as he mounted his horse and settled his supplies.

"I'll be back in a fortnight. Be safe," He said, finally, snapping the reigns of the horse as he began to ride off down the road. Orihime waved after him, cheerily.

"Be careful!" She called out, watching his hand wave back as her as he continued on his way.

* * *

I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Beast. It would be lovely if you could send some sort of feedback or encouragement because I'm still not entirely sure if I want to continue with this or just put it away for later so that I can finish my other FFiction _Devil._

Thank you so much for taking time to read this story. This tale would be nothing without you, o faithful reader. (:


	2. Chapter 2

"I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude."

**- Henry David Thoreau**

.

.

Beast

The Castle of the Beast

.

The journey for Sora was long and tedious but within a few days he had arrived on the docks to await the news of his ship. It was a Sunday morning when he had arrived, only a few clouds obscuring the daylight and shadowing the sun. The salty air and ocean breeze was different than the fresh air Sora found in his home town, a good change of pace from his otherwise boring schedule. The ocean mist sprayed on his face as he rode the tall horse through the crowds of merchants, workers and buyers, trying to find his own large ship.

Finally, Sora spied the large white sails blowing in the breeze and recognized the dark wood of the ships hull, reading the name of the ship out loud to himself.

_Hollow_

It was a beautiful ship, especially so considering Sora's lack of funding for the ship and its crew. It cost him a fortune to keep everything for the ships journey up to par, yet he usually did so good selling overseas that he never really needed to worry about money. He always had enough to pay for all the expenditures and have much left over.

This time, though, as he approached the marvelous ship, two men – the stock keepers of the merchant docks, met him at the entrance to his ship. One was a rather large man, short and stubby, with a mustache that, in Sora's eyes, made him appear like a walrus. The other man was tall and thin – too thin, maybe. Both men, as Sora approached the ship, turned to look at him with indifferent looks about them and immediately Sora knew that something was wrong.

"Are you Sora Inoue?" The stout man asked.

"Yes," Sora nodded, "Yes that's me."

The stout man stuck out his hand, which Sora took politely, the thin man remaining in his position, not trying to create any sort of camaraderie between him and the young merchant, which made Sora feel uneasy and intimidated.

"Well, is there a problem?" Sora asked the two men, whose faces looked too serious for his liking. The thin man adjusted his glasses and straightened his back just as the stout man played with the end of us dark mustache.

"Well," The thin man said in a mocking tone, "It seems that you did not make enough money over seas to pay fully for your expenditures."

The stout man spoke next.

"I – we – are sorry to inform you that you have made no profit this time around. We express our greatest apologies and ask that you be on your way."

Sora was speechless. He stood there, his mouth agape, for what seemed like days, before he was able to process what he was just told. He shook his head, and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"I don't understand. My wine didn't sell?"

"It seems," Said the tall man, "that much of the wine was lost in a pirate attack on your ship. Much of your wine was stolen, or at least that is what your captain and crew say."

"This is… terrible." Sora said, looking at the ground. He closed his eyes as he thought about the circumstance, bothered by the unfortunate turn of events. He thought of his sister, Orihime, and about how he could no longer bring her a gift. Yes, she had asked for a simple rose, but he was still planning to surprise her with a lavish sort of gift weather she liked it or not. Now, he could bring her back nothing at all, and he felt utterly guilty.

Sora finally lifted his head to look the two gentlemen in the eyes, realizing that he could do nothing to change his fate. He smiled the best he could and nodded politely at the two men, mounting his horse.

"Thank you, both. Perhaps next time I'll have more luck with my sales."

So, feeling queasy and ashamed, Sora began the long journey back to the town of Ousse-Suzan.

* * *

Days later, Sora found that he could no longer continue with his journey. He was exhausted and tired, just as his horse was, and he was afraid that he was not going to make it to his sister. He could only imagine the disappointment on her face, and he did not want to face her in his current state. He was scared, upset, and discouraged. His money had not been enough to afford extra food and supplies for his journey and he was close to finishing his food. Sora was ready to collapse into the brush and leafs and lay on the hard ground until he passed.

Yet, he looked up at the looming moon, the full white circle lighting his way and shining on his path. If it were not for the brightness of the moonlight, Sora would have not noticed the large castle in the distance; he would have not noticed his sanctuary.

After quick deliberation he decided that he would ask the owner of the castle if he could stay for the night. He was sure the master of the house would not turn down a poor, weary traveler for nothing but a meal and a few hours of sleep.

He rode up to the large doors, dismounted his horse who was beginning to become unsettled. The creature stomped its hooves on the ground, neighing at his rider as if telling him to shy away from the castle, that he was willing to continue on with the journey without nourishment. Sora placed a hand on the animal's snout, hushing it soothingly.

"It's alright, boy. Why are you so frightened?"

The horse continued to thrash around nervously.

"Alright." Sora sighed. "Stay out here."

Sora lazily tied his horse to a nearby branch and walked away to knock heavily on the two large wooden doors, stepping back as if waiting for someone to answer. No one came to the door, and after a few moments Sora decided to try knocking again. This time, the doors opened slowly and eerily, creaking as they swung into the castle. Sora suddenly began to feel frightened and cautiously stepped into the mansion, the cries of his horse buzzing in his ear.

"Hello?" He called out into the darkness, not seeing any servant or person who could have opened the door. "Hello! Is there anyone there?"

Sora dared to walk a few more steps, still calling out to anyone who may be able to hear him. "I just need somewhere to stay for the night! Hello?"

Still, no one answered.

Sora sighed, finally giving up on finding an occupant of the building. Perhaps it was deserted, he thought as he looked around at the décor. Every piece of furniture looked outdated and unkempt, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the building was crawling with insects and wild animals.

This notion was the reason he screamed when he felt something rub against his leg. In the faint light, he saw two bright, blue eyes looking up at him, and the faint outline of a cat.

"It's just a damn cat," He said to himself, laughing, "You're making yourself frightened, Sora."

The cat mewled at him, continuing to stare up at the man before walking off, looking back at Sora every so often as if beckoning for the man to follow him. Sora did, without hesitation, and followed the cat into a large dining room. The sheer size of the room alone awed Sora, with its high celling and chandeliers and large, tall windows that overlooked a vast garden and forest. The intricate paintings and carvings in the walls and pillars were breathtaking.

The cat mewed at Sora yet again, and in the new, brighter lighting, Sora noticed the cat a bit more in detail.

"Blue?" Sora looked down at the cat, confused, "That's a strange color for an animal." He bent down to pet the animal, his hands running through the bright fur. The cat purred into his hand, and mewed once again before jumping onto the large dining table and walking towards the far end of the wooden masterpiece. That was when Sora noticed an array of plates and food and drink set out at the head of the table.

"Is this for your master, or is it for me?" Sora asked the cat, humoring the unusually intelligent animal. The cat just stared at him, its tail flicking back and forth. Sora couldn't help but smile. He eagerly sat down at the table, and stuck a fork into the large turkey that had been placed out before him, stuffing his mouth eagerly with the feast.

After scarfing down the array dishes – from roast beef to smoked ham, steamed carrots to boiled broccoli, pasta and sliced tomatoes – Sora had felt terribly full. He leaned back into his seat with a sigh, looking over to the cat that had not moved a muscle since he had begun his feast. It's blue eyes stared at him, glowing, and while Sora felt content he couldn't help but also feel uneasy with those bright eyes trained on him.

That was when Sora noticed, from the light of the moon, the beautiful Rose garden through the windows of the dining hall. He smiled, thinking of his younger sister, knowing that she had wished for a single rose upon his return. At least, he thought, he'd be able to get her the gift she wanted. He scooted out of the chair, walking quickly to one of the doors and stepping out into the cool night, followed by the aqua colored cat. He hurried towards the bushes, looking carefully at each perfect red rose.

Yet, just as he reached out to pick one, he felt a clawing at his legs and a hissing noise.

Looking down, he noticed the cat sinking his paws into his calf, the animal baring it's teeth towards the dark-haired man as if telling him to not touch the flowers. Sora sighed, kicking his leg in order to get free of the cat, who held on for dear life.

"Damn cat." He said as he swatted it off of his leg. Though the animal had let go, it jumped yet again onto the man. This time, Sora ignored it as best he could and plucked a single rose from it's stem. Yet, almost a second after he had lifted the beautiful flower to his face, he heard a deep, menacing voice from behind him.

"That was completely unnecessary."

The rose fell onto the ground.

The cat had jumped away and walked towards the frightening voice. Sora did not even dare turn around.

"I let you into my home," The monotonous voice continued, "I give you food and drink, and yet you invade my garden and pluck one of my prized roses with your disgusting hands."

"I-I'm very sorry," Sora began as her turned, but the words were suddenly caught in his throat. A beast, tall and lanky, stood in front of him, with bright golden eyes and large, dark wings. His knees weakened and he collapsed onto the ground, crawling away from the creature in front of him.

"I am so sorry," Sora frantically said, in fear of the monster before him, "I was not aware that these r-roses were so precious to you… _sir."_

"They are my life." The monster said, staring down at the man with a blank expression. Sora did not know what to say and he remained there on the ground, looking up at the creature, the monster, the _beast_, not knowing how else to react, until he heard an unknown voice.

"My lord, he did not mean any harm."

It was a male's voice, but it was quiet and small. The creature did not even acknowledge the voice, and Sora began to wonder if he merely imagined it.

"I… am very sorry," Sora stuttered as he lifted himself off of the ground and into a kneeling position, "I promised my younger sister a rose, and without any profit from my enterprises… I couldn't afford her one from a merchant."

"So you decide to steal a rose from my own garden."

"Please!" Sora begged to the beast, clasping his hands together as if praying, "I'll do anything! Just please don't kill me!" His shoulders hunched over in defeat and fear, and he sobbed into his hands desperately, repeating between his muffled cries, "Please… please…"

"Your sister," The beast began, causing Sora to look up with glazed eyes and wet cheeks, "What is she like?"

"She is beautiful!" Sora said quickly, "And smart, and caring, and a model young woman. I am so very proud of-"

But the beast interrupted him.

"She will not miss you."

And suddenly, Sora's vision went black.

* * *

"Find out what you're afraid of, and go live there" **Chuck Palahniuk, **_Invisible Monsters_

* * *

Orihime woke up with a fright and had spent the entirety of her morning cleaning and dusting and moping the small cottage. She was worried, very worried, about her elder brother Sora, who had yet to return home from his trip. Usually, it would take him no more than two weeks to complete his journey, yet it had been a little over a month since she had seen him off to the coast. His absence was frightening her and she was beginning to get terribly concerned with his well-being.

Orihime had been polishing Sora's shoes, she had made his bed for him so that he would we welcomed into clean sheets upon his return, and she was already prepared to begin his favorite meal, just in case he returned. Though, in her head, she was beginning to doubt. Sora was the only family she had left and without him she had no idea what she would do.

She was beginning to worry that something terrible had happened to him. The thought of bandits and forest wolfs and bears and other terrible things flooded through her head as she let her imagination get the better of her. She was suddenly filled with fear.

Orihime collapsed at the dining table, flinging her arms and head on the wooden surface and sobbed into her sleeves. She could think of nothing but the frightening things that could have happened to her brother. Her heart raced to the point that she began feeling anxiety and disquietude, her eyes burning and her tears stinging her face.

"Sora," She said into the empty room, "You can't leave me here alone. I need you. I need you with me."

As if someone had heard her words, the noise of horse hoofs erupted into her mind and she sat up with a start, quickly wiping the tears off of her face. She rushed outside, praying with all her might that Sora would be there, dismounting his horse with a smile across his face and a single rose for his sister. Yet, she was met with something – or rather, someone – much less pleasing.

Her face dropped as she saw Ichigo dismounting a strong steed, his small relative following suit and tying the horse to a nearby tree. Ichigo turned and smiled brightly at Orihime, who held and expression of complete distaste as the red-head walked up to the house.

"Ah, sweet Orihime!" He said, bowing lowly, "I was hoping to catch you here."

"Well, of course. This is my home," Orihime said, the disappointment showing through her tone. She inwardly sighed, thinking it better to not take her anger out on the young man before her, and forced a cheerful smile across her face, "What brings you out this way, Ichigo?"

"I just wanted to see you, Miss Inoue," He said, stepping closer towards her, "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Actually, yes I do," Orihime said, watching Ichigo's face fall. She cleared her throat and continued, "I just cleaned, you see, and I don't think it would be good to have you track dirt into my home."

"Oh," Ichigo said, his face lighting up in understanding, "Oh, I understand."

The two stood there awkwardly for a short while, Orihime playing with her fingers, Ichigo looking off into the sky.

Orihime couldn't help but wonder why he was there. He wasn't really saying or doing anything, and she took a deep sigh before asking him, again, "So, why do you want to see me, Ichigo?"

"Forgive me," Ichigo said, looking back at the woman before him, "I have been strangely silent, but I am a bundle of nerves here on the inside."

He stepped forward towards her, taking her hand and falling down to a knee. Orihime's eyes widened, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. He looked up into her grey eyes with such intensity that she herself felt as if she would faint from the utter surprise of the situation.

"I was hoping, Miss Orihime Inoue, if you would accept my hand in marriage."

She looked between Ichigo and his silent relative, Kon, the young boy who seemed to follow him everywhere, scared of what to say. In her mind, the thoughts _not again_ crossed her and she couldn't help but sigh in exhaustion.

"I'm sorry… but I cannot accept this without my brother's consent." She said as she watched his face drop to a disappointed look. He stood up quietly, looking her in the eye.

"I don't understand," He said, "Every woman in town would kill to be in your position. Why do you not want me?"

She was speechless, not entirely sure of what to say. She did not want to answer him, she was not ready to break his heart just yet. But, she knew she had to tell him something. She closed her eyes for a moment, before looking at him, yet again, his face confused, his bottle-brown eyes filled with distraught, but before she could say anything the sound of a horse met her senses. She looked over Ichigo's shoulder to see a horse gallop onto the property – Sora's horse, with no rider.

"Oh no," She whispered under her breath, covering her mouth with her hands in shock. The brown steed was running around the yard, neighing loudly as it bucked its hind legs back and forth. Orihime pushed past Ichigo and ran up to the frightened horse, attempting to calm it down with a soft voice and gentle hands. Finally, the horse calmed itself, and it was then that Orihime felt her heart clench inside of her chest. She collapsed on the dirty ground in sobs, dirt kicking up as she rolled into the earth. He wasn't there. He hadn't come back.

"Sora… Sora!" She called his name over and over again, hugging herself as she rocked back and forth. She heard Ichigo walk up to her, his shadow looming over her.

"What's wrong?" She heard Ichigo say, and suddenly, she was filled with anger.

"Leave." She harshly whispered, sobs still racking her body.

"Miss Inoue…"

She turned towards him, angered, tears cascading down her face.

"Please leave, now, Ichigo! Can't you see that my brother is missing! Leave me in peace, just for a while!"

Ichigo stepped back and motioned for Kon to untie the horse when Orihime had buried her face into her hands once more. He walked over to his steed, mounting it swiftly before turning back towards the village, leaving Orihime's heart-wrenching sobs behind him.

She couldn't stop wailing, her entire soul becoming broken and fearful. She had known something was wrong when her brother didn't return quickly enough. Now, here stood his horse, without a rider, and she could only imagine the worse happening to him. After what felt like hours of laying there in the dirt, she finally found the strength to stand and lead the horse into it's stable.

Maybe he was still out there, she thought. Maybe he was still alive, lying behind some bushes, bleeding from some wound that had been inflicted on him. The thought of her older brother slowly dying in the forest made her choke.

She knew she had to find him – alive or dead, she had to know where he was.

There wasn't much sun left in the day, but it did not matter to her. If Sora was dead, then there was no use in her living as well. She readied their second horse, and attained some food and water for her journey before leaving the house as the sky was beginning to turn orange.

But, she thought, how would se find him?

She didn't even know which trail he took.

Already riding into the forest, she was unsure of what to do. She was being driven by her emotions. All she had to do was find her brother… but now, she had been riding for so long, and she was lost, and now she wished she had stayed home and waited until she came to her senses. She should have asked some of the village men to go search instead of doing it herself.

It was getting dark.

She thought it would be a good idea to head uphill, to get to a high point and find a nearby village to stay the evening in. She hurried her horse, feeling the urgency in the situation as the sky continued to darken into a purplish hue.

Before she could reach the top of the hill, she had to skid to a stop. If she had continued racing, Orihime would have run her and her horse right into the wall of a castle. She looked up at it, the moon rising in the sky behind it, and she thought of how nice of a place it would be to stay for the evening. Maybe, she thought, the master of the house could spare a servant or two to help her search for her brother. She circled around the castle, finding a tree to tie her horse upon, and rushing to knock on the large wooden doors.

No one answered.

She knocked again.

Still, no one answered.

So, desperate and scared, she let herself into the building.

"Hello?" She called out as the door creaked open, "Hello, I'm looking for my brother."

She stepped into the house, walking around quietly, still calling out for someone to answer her.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

"I've lost my brother you see, and I need somewhere to stay for the night."

"Hello? Hello?"

Orihime found herself wandering through the castle, up the stairs and through the various hallways. She soon realized how incredibly large the castle was, with all of its rooms and passages. She was quickly thinking how much fun she would have in this place if she only had more time to stay here.

Perhaps, she thought, if she could find the owner she could become good friends with them and visit regularly. Oh, that would be marvelous! Spending time out here, on this beautiful landscape… what a dream come true!

She began to climb yet another staircase – how many floors did this castle have? It was different than the other staircases, where instead of being crafted of wood and carpet, it was made of stone. The walls, too, morphed into a stone-like medium as she ascended, and when she reached the top she was met with a horrific sight.

There were cells lining the walls, like a prison, and in one of the cages sat her brother, his head down and his breathing shallow.

"Sora…" She whispered, still shocked by the sight of her brother, but as soon as she snapped back into the reality of the situation, she rushed forward and screamed out his name.

"Sora!" She yelled as she pushed herself against the bars and watching him raise his head to look at her. His eyes widened and he crawled quickly towards the bars to hold his sister's hand. "Oh, Sora, I thought you were dead…"

Tears started falling down her face as she spoke, for she had gone the past few hours in fear of losing him forever.

"No, I am alive as you can see… but I need you to be quiet," He said softly, Orihime having to lean forward to be able to hear him. "The master of this house is a frightful beast, and he must not know you are here."

"I'm sure he already does," She said, "I was yelling for someone to help me as I wandered around this castle. And I'm sure he's not that bad of a person, Sora."

"He's not even a person at all!" Sora said in a rush, fear emanate in his voice, "He is a _devil,_ a demon on earth. We need to get out of here. Quickly!"

Orihime nodded her head in understanding, leaning back and lifting her head to look at the bars. She tried to find a weak spot, a way to perhaps free her brother from his prison so that the two of them could hurry out of the building. Suddenly, she got the idea that perhaps a key was hidden in some area of the room.

Yet, she had no time to look for a key, for as soon as she turned her head to scan the walls she was met with a creature who was standing at the edge of the doorway, his bright yellow eyes glowing in the dim light.

Orihime froze, her eye widening, and her hands shaking as the creature stared at her with such intensity. Black streaks fell down from his eyes, like tear marks, making him appear distressed or sad. A pair of white horns stuck out from his rather long, black hair, which flowed down his pale back and between the two, enormous bat-like wings. His arms and legs were covered in black fur, and instead of hands or feet he possessed long, sharp talons.

Orihime watched as the creature cocked it's head to the side, as if intrigued, and she felt her elder brother scurry back deeper within his cell. Orihime, though, could only watch, frozen with fear, as the creature continued to advance towards her. It stopped right in front of her. She craned her neck to look up at the terrible beast, who's dark shadow seemed to engulf her completely.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my domain."

Finally the beast spoke, a deep, flat voice ghosting over Orihime. She could feel his breath brush past her cheeks and over her neck. Her lips parted, her mouth opening as if she was about to reply, but nothing but a quiet whimper came out. It continued to stare at her, its eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

"Woman, I do not wish to ask you again-"

"I'm sorry!" Orihime interrupted, clasping her hands together as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I'm sorry! I just needed to find my brother! And I found him! And… oh please, sir! Please don't hurt him! Please let him go! Please!"

By now, tears were cascading down Orihime's face like a waterfall. She stared up at the monster, who's expression still did not change, and couldn't help but think how foolish and defeated she looked, hunched over with her face quickly turning red from her tears. The creature still did not speak.

"Please, sir!" She motioned to her brother, who was cowering in the cell, "He's the only family I have."

Now at this point, Ulquiorra had many things rushing through his head, one of the things being that he had not seen any woman at all in the time since he had been transformed. No woman whatsoever had come to his castle, and there was no way he would allow himself to exit the castle grounds. He thought of the witch's curse.

_If a woman can look past your appearance and fall for the man you are inside, the curse will be lifted._

Did he want her? Did he think that he could win the heart of this bawling girl? He was doubtful, yet he only had a little over a year until his time was up. It wouldn't hurt to at least try. Still, he looked down at his monstrous form, feeling disgust within himself.

For who could love a hideous beast?

Her small, fragile voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"I'll do anything, if you just let him go. Please…"

Anything? Did she mean it?

"I will let him free…" The creature began, watching the girl's eyes suddenly shine with joy, "If you will agree to take his place as my prisoner."

Her face dropped. Orihime looked back at her brother, who appeared just as shocked as she was. Sora raced to the bars, pulling at his sisters arms and whispered, "Don't do it Orihime! Please! It's not worth it."

She looked at her brother, a dumbfounded expression on her features, then looked back at the beast who was still towering over her, his face still fixed in the same expression. She sat up from her sitting position, allowing her brothers hand to slip out of her grasp.

"If I agree, you _will_ let him go."

"Yes"

"And he will be safe."

"Of course."

"And you will let no harm come to him."

"You have my word."

"Alright. I'll do it."

"No! Orihime!" Sora yelled as the door to the prison suddenly swung open. He rushed over to her and clasped her face within his palms, "Please, do not do this!"

"It is the only way I can save you." She said, giving him a reassuring smile, "I'll be fine, Sora, don't you worry."

He leaned in, giving her a deep kiss on her forehead, and as he pulled away he faintly whispered, quiet enough so that only the two of them heard, "I'll find someone to help you. I'll come get you back."

The two siblings looked at each other, Sora's eyes filled with anger and determination, while Orihime's were filled with nothing but fear.

Sora felt a hand grasp him from his shirt and he tumbled towards the stairs. "Leave," The beast said. Sora, slowly and reluctantly descended down the stairs, his eyes fixed on Orihime as he left. She was sitting on her legs, her hands placed in her lap, when the beast turned to look at her. He watched her wipe a tear from her eyes and as she placed a hand over the blue hairpins she stuck into her hair he turned. Just like her brother he began walking down the stairs.

"Follow me, woman."

She looked up at him; her cheeks still rosy, seeing his back turned to her. She wiped her cheeks one last time before standing up and scurrying to follow after him.

* * *

Woah! I am so happy to finally upload this chapter! I was spending two months trying to make it just as long as the first chapter, and finally I just gave up and decided to post this. Mainly because I saw this as a good ending point and didn't see any need to add MORE to the parts I had already written.

I really hope none of y'all have given up on this, even though it seemed like I gave up on it myself. Please, oh please review! It would mean so much to me! (:


	3. Chapter 3

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

but I have promises to keep

and miles to go before I sleep;

and miles to go before I sleep."

**- Robert Frost, **_Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening_

.

.

**Beast**

_Chapter Three:_

.

The village tavern was booming, as it was most evenings, with a majority of the men who lived within the town. From the farmers who owned large plots of land just outside of the village, to the merchants who sold goods on the cobbled streets of the town, to the ruffians and thugs that spent their time fighting and betting for money.

They sat in their cliques, some at the bar, others at their own tables, gulping down pitchers of mead as they laughed and talked and got good and drunk together, all but one, a couple who sat in the corner of the tavern, away from the merriment and joy. The elder one sat hunched over, his face in his hands, as he looked off at all the other men. The younger sat sipping on a glass of some tea, having denied drinking anything which could impair him, the duo's fiery orange hair looking striking beneath the pale glow of the torches.

Kon, the younger, looked up at his elder cousin, who had been quiet and cheerless ever since their visit to the maiden Orihime's home. It was unfortunate; Kon thought to himself, that the girl's brother had not returned on his horse. The loss of a family member to some unknown disaster was something that the young boy was very familiar with. He, himself, had never even _known_ who his parents were, his earliest memories being that of growing up around the Kurosaki household with his uncle and his three children. His aunt, who had passed with illness before he was even born, belonged to the side of the family he was a part of, and since she was gone he had no knowledge whatsoever of his parents and their whereabouts.

So, naturally, Kon felt an increasing sympathy for the girl.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Kon asked his elder cousin, "Orihime, I mean."

Ichigo did not speak. Instead he just scowled down at the young boy before turning back to observing the other bystanders in the tavern.

"It's a terrible thing to lose someone's family member." Kon continued, looking down into his glass, "I hope that her brother just lost the horse rather than… something else having happened to him."

"Poor girl." Ichigo finally said, threading his fingers through his hands as he gave an exhausted sigh, "How would she survive without a man in her household. All alone, by herself in that shabby home."

Ichigo then looked down at the floor, his hands tightening around each other as his body became tense, "Did you see the way she looked at me?" He had whispered it, so quiet in the loud room that Kon had to strain his ears to hear. Yet, the distress was evident on the elder Kurosaki's face. Ichigo was upset about the denial, from being said no one too many times by the girl. It was the first time Kon had ever seen the man in any mood other than proud.

Kon put on a smile and bumped his cousin in the shoulder. "How about a beer?" He said in a feeble attempt to cheer the man up.

"What for? Nothing helps."

"Ah, come on!" Kon edged on as he ran up to he bar, grabbing a pitcher for his elder cousin. He slammed the pitcher on the table, shouting, "Just one!"

Ichigo looked at him, annoyance evident on his features. Kon just sank down, his face dropping from a cheerful smile to a melancholy frown.

"I'm worried about her, Kon," Ichigo said his eyes dull and sad, "But... I suppose you are right." Ichigo grabbed the pitcher, standing and raising the glass high into the air.

"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki! I can win her heart! No woman is immune to my charm!" Ichigo poured the glass down his throat, drinking the entire drink in one large gulp. "Besides," He grinned at his younger cousin, "She'll need a shoulder to cry one, wont she?"

Kon smiled, "That's the spirit!"

Ichigo pulled his younger cousin to the bar, asking - well, more like yelling - for the bartender to bring him two more glasses. The fiery haired relative held the glasses up to each other.

"To women?" Kon asked.

"To women!" Ichigo shouted. The two clinked glasses and chugged down the drink.

The night was young, the boys were all having a grand time getting wasted and laughing and joking with each other. Ichigo's moods had lifted substantially from before and he was talking and mingling with other patrons of the bar as if they were all old friends.

Of course, all things good must come to an end, and this night came to a quick one when a man bursts through the doors of the tavern. All went silent.

"Sora?" Kon whispered to the elder Kurosaki, "Oh, thank heavens he's alright!:

Orihime's brother looked as if he had ran as fast as he could to the village. His breath was heaving, patches of blood had dried in various places on his body, and his eyes were wide with fear. He ran up to the first man he saw, clutching his shirt and pulling him to his face.

"Help," He pleaded, "Please, help. Someone."

For a moment everyone just stared at in drunken stupor. Ichigo's eyes furrowed in confusion.

_Help? What could he possibly need help for?_

"Help? For what, boy?" Said the bartender, finally breaking the silence. Sora's head snapped to look at him and he run over to the bar, pushing his body over the wooden counter in desperation.

"My sister! She has been taken!"

"You mean Orihime!" This was Ichigo's time to speak, stepping forward towards the devastated man, "What happened?"

Sora was shaking. Every few words he spoke he began to stutter more and more, "I… w-well, I had been held hostage!"

"Hostage!" Another man yelled.

"Yes!" Sora continued, "By this… this monster! Orihime… she offered herself for my freedom! We have to get her back!"

By this time, Sora's voice had become frantic and everyone in the room had suddenly become confused. A… monster?

A quiet murmur spread through the room at the word of a monster. Didn't those only exist in fairy tales?

"What do you mean by _a monster_?" Someone finally asked. Sora's voice became deep and foreboding.

"He is monstrous – lives in a palace not far from here in the forest!" Sora said, his hands beginning to flap everywhere in emphasis of his point, "He has wings! Large black wings! And horns on top of his head and a tail – oh! He is truly a demon! – And eyes yellow and green and black and black lines down his face!"

The men in the tavern stared as Sora in disbelief, the drunken men shaking off Sora's claim as a prank of some sort. Slowly, they all began to laugh at the silliness of the situation.

"Please!" Sora yelled, "You have to help me!"

"Boy, you're mad!" The men began to say.

"What is wrong with you?"

"He's gone crazy!"

"What should we do with him?"

"Why don't we take him to Aizen? Maybe he can help?'

"Ah! Yes! The asylum! Great idea!"

"Haha! Yes a few days there should get these ideas of monsters out of his head!"

All the men began to surround Sora, who had suddenly realized the danger of the situation he had put himself into. He tried backing away slowly, but there were men behind him as well.

"Please," He pleaded, "I beg of you, I'm not crazy! I swear!"

He felt a rough hand grip his arm, "Come one, let's take you up to Sosuke."

But Sora wouldn't allow it. He did not want to end up like his mother. He fought to pull his arm away, pushed at the other men who tried to hold him down. He clipped one of them in the jaw, his elbow finding its way into the stomach of the man who's hand was on his arm. The man let go of him with a loud "Shit!" as he tumbled to the floor.

Sora made a break for it, running as fast as he could to the doors, but to no avail, for just as he was about to push himself through and into the outdoors he felt a large, blunt object hit him across the head and all went dark.

* * *

Sunlight peeked through the windows as morning finally came, the night having been restless for the young woman who lay in bed, watching the slow sunrise. Her eyes were sore and puffy, her cheeks red, as she had spent the whole night silently sobbing. She thought it unfortunate that the previous night had not turned itself into a horrid nightmare – this was real, she realized.

Orihime, though, didn't find it _completely_ unbearable, for the creature had given her a room all to herself. Inside was a lavish four poster bed, a small bathroom, and a wardrobe with a few articles of clothing. Despite the attempt to make her comfortable, she still remained under her bed sheets, hoping to stay there until Sora had returned with help and she was able to leave the dreaded place.

At just the thought of Sora, her tears began to run again. She hugged herself, pulling the blanket over her head as sobs racked her body. What would become of her, she thought. Would the monster eat her? But, in that case, why would he have given her so many things? Would she even be allowed to leave the room?

She continued sobbing, the noise distracting her from the quiet creak of an opening door.

"Christ, stop crying." Said a voice, a masculine drawl that brought Orihime out of her fit. She slowly lifted the covers off of her head and sat up. At the foot of the bed sat a cat, strangely colored in blue fur. She blinked, once or twice, rubbed her eyes and looked up. Still, the blue cat was there.

_Blue?_

She shifted awkwardly in the bed, her mouth opening and closing as she thought of things to say, then decided against them. The domesticated animal remained there, it's expression appearing somewhat annoyed and when the feline appeared to raise an eyebrow she jumped.

"Oh, I get it." Said the cat, "You haven't seen a talking animal before."

It took Orihime a few moments to comprehend it, but once she realized that the cat had spoken and that it was completely unnatural for a cat to talk, she screamed and fell off the bed.

The animal scoffed, "Am I really that scary?"

Orihime completely ignored the cat and shot up, sputtering out, "You're a talking cat!"

The animal just stared at her from its spot atop the mattress. She stood up and pointed at the feline, almost yelling this time, "Why can you talk!? Why are you blue!?"

"Does it matter?" The animal said, it's tone somewhat annoyed, "Look, girl, I'm here to help you so quit freaking out, okay?"

"But…!"

_A talking cat!_

"Shut up."

And she did, not wanting to get the small animal mad for she knew all to well how sharp a cat's claws could be.

She slowly stepped towards the animal, reaching her hands out towards it and picking it up, her hands underneath the feline's armpits. She held the pet up to her face and stared at it. "So, you're a talking cat who is here to help me?"

"Yeah. Sure." It spoke, "Name's Grimmjow Jaggerjaques, personal servant and friend of Lord Ciffer, who's company you were rudely met with last night."

"Lord? You mean that… thing is a lord?"

"Yeah, sure."

"And you're his servant?"

"Yeah."

"And his friend?"

"He'll deny it, but sure."

"And you're a cat."

"Yes."

"How can you talk?"

"Magic."

"Magic!"

"Yes, magic, now put me down! Shit!"

Orihime slowly set the feline back down onto the bed and plopped down next to it. She suddenly felt so confused, and began to wonder if maybe this was a strange, unnatural dream. She placed her hand on her head as she tried to make sense of the situation, her thoughts interrupted as the cat spoke again.

"Don't worry. It's all a bit weird at first."

Orihime ignored his statement, determined to find out more about just what the heck was going on. She turned to the animal, "What was your name again?"

"Grimmjow."

"Grimmjow…" she repeated, "Well, Grimmjow, could you please help me and tell me exactly what has happened? And maybe even let me know what _will_ happen to me, because I am a bit scared at the moment and-"

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine." He interrupted her, sitting up and curling into her lap, "And if anything, you're going to be the one helping us, not the other way around."

"What?" Orihime asked, puzzled, "How would _I_ help _you_?"

Grimmjow stared up at her with his large, blue cat eyes for a few moments before jumping onto the carpeted floor with a quiet thump.

"It's not a big deal. Just get dressed, I was sent to retrieve you for breakfast."

Orihime nodded her head, standing up and walked to the wardrobe, pulling out a simple blue dress before stepping into the bathroom to change. Within minutes, she had joined the blue cat in the hallway and was following the animal through the many corridors and stairways that led to the castle's dining room.

"Um, Mister Grimmjow?" She timidly began, but again the cat interrupted her.

"Just call me Grimmjow."

"Oh, sorry, Grimmjow." She anxiously cleared her throat, "I was just wondering if you could tell me a little about your master… Cifer, was it?"

The cat scoffed, and while Orihime couldn't see his face she was sure he rolled his eyes. She began to wonder if the animal hated his master for some reason, but instead of prying into his personal business she let the blue animal talk.

"His first name is Ulquiorra, and he's basically a little prick. He's selfish, cold, uncaring. I've known him longer than anyone in this castle – we grew up together – and he barely even acknowledges me." Grimmjow said as he walked. He looked up at the young, auburn haired girl, suddenly feeling guilty. Her expression, which when they had left her room was somewhat content, had suddenly dropped to one of fear and sadness. He wanted – no – needed her to feel comfortable here or else he and the rest of the castle's inhabitants would never return to their previous forms. He let out a quiet sigh before returning his attention to the hall in front of him and continued speaking.

"Yet, he is still a good person, I suppose. He isn't cruel or evil, just depressed. He may look frightening, but really he's just a big softy with an ego."

Again, Grimmjow turned his head slightly, enough to see the girls face once more. To his delight, she was looking at him with curiosity in her eyes. He figured that was at least a better emotion to have than fear.

"So, have you always been a cat, Grimmjow?" Orihime asked after a few moments. There was a period of uneasy silence before the animal replied to her.

"No," he said solemnly, "No, I was a human once."

"A human!" Orihime shouted, her curiosity taking the best of her, "Then how did you become a cat!"

"I told you," Grimmjow replied as he stopped in front of a pair of large, wooden doors, "magic."

He motioned for her to enter through the doors and slowly she opened one until it was as wide as it could go. She was met with a beautiful dining room, a large, crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The wall in front of her was covered in windows, a door leading out to a terrace. A long wooden table took up the center of the room, and on the farthest side were plates and cups set out for her. She looked down at the animal once more, as if asking if the plates were for her. Grimmjow nodded his head and Orihime's mouth widened in a smile as she almost ran to the seat.

Fruit, pastries, and gourmet dishes sat before her on the plates in a buffet fashion. Immediately she dug into the food, realizing that she hadn't eaten since early the previous day. She was almost literally starving, and when the blue animal jumped upon the table to observe her she realized how much she must appeared to look like a pig.

Slowly she set some of the food back on the place, swallowed what was already in her mouth, and wiped her face with a napkin before starting the meal again, this time much slower.

"You don't need to eat properly in front of me." Grimmjow said, sitting with a straight back and flicking tail just in front of her.

"I have to," Orihime replied, "I don't like being a messy eater in front of people."

Grimmjow chuckled, "Well, I'm a cat, so you don't have to worry about me."

Orihime smiled at him, but nonetheless she continued eating in a polite manner, just as she had been raised to do. Sora had always taught her proper table etiquette – don't chew with you mouth open, elbows off the table, eat slowly. By this age, those things were already plastered into her mind permanently and she…

Sora.

She suddenly felt the tears crawl up from her eyelids once more as she thought of her brother, and how she would never see him again. She fell forward on the table, covering her face in her hands as she sobbed. She felt Grimmjow rush over to her, his furry body gliding against her arms.

"Hey, hey, don't cry." She heard his quiet voice said, "Please, I told Ulquiorra that he would be able to talk to you and he can't see you like this."

She continued to cry, ignoring the animal as it attempted – a very unsuccessful attempt – to comfort her.

"I don't want to be here," She mumbled into her palms, "I want to be at home with my brother. I want to go read the books at the bookstore. I want… I want this to be over."

Grimmjow's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her, feeling quite sorry for the girl. She didn't deserve this if it was hurting her, and he almost considered running off to ask his master to let her leave. It was strange, though. It seemed as if Ulquiorra knew she was upset, because in that moment he walked through the doors – wings and fur and horns and all – and stood there silently, watching the auburn haired girl sob into her hands.

Grimmjow turned to look at him, then nodded his head and jumped off the table to leave the two alone. Just as he brushed by Orihime's face he whispered, "He is here. Please try to compose yourself."

Orihime had straightened up in her seat before the small domestic animal had left the room, her tear tracks beginning to dry on her cheeks. She looked at the monster with a fearful look, her body tense and her hands clasped. With wide eyes she stared at the thing in front of her. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Why?" Orihime asked, her voice soft and timid, "Why offer to let me stay here with you? What did I ever do to you?" Her body fell forward in another sob, her emotions taking the better of her in the moment.

Ulquiorra stood there, silent and still as a stone. His cold eyes looked over her, watching the way her body moved as she cried into her hands. He should have felt something for her – sympathy, compassion, sorrow – but he had lost most of his emotions long ago when this curse was first placed upon him. Now, all he saw her as was trash.

"Woman." He said forcefully, her sobs immediately stopping as she slowly raised her head to look at him, "Compose yourself."

Now, fire was in her eyes as she looked on at him from her seat, "You don't care? You're forcing me to stay in your home and you don't care? Do you?"

"You are strange." Ulquiorra interrupted her, his monotonous voice booming through the room, "Not many people are quick to speak to me like that."

"Yes, you're frightening, but if you wanted to kill me or torture me you wouldn't have given me a bed to sleep in or food!" Orihime almost yelled, frustrated with the ignorant creature before her. He was quiet and didn't reply to her, a gesture that she hoped to be something akin to regret.

"You are needed here." Ulquiorra finally said, his voice cold and calculating. He observed her, her every movement adding to his impression of her. At this point, Ulquiorra saw her as something less than tolerable.

Orihime didn't know what to do anymore. This thing in front of her – she didn't want to talk to it. She didn't want to see it – it was hideous, after all, and it frightened her. Sadly, Orihime was too kind hearted of a person to leave him – and also a bit scared of what he may do if she decided to start ignoring him. She slowly got out of her seat, watching his eyes follow her as she took two nervous steps forward.

"Why?" She asked quietly, "Why do you need me here?"

Ulquiorra didn't want to tell her. He couldn't – after all, did she really need to know about the curse he and his household was given? She would need to find out on her own time and he most certainly was not going to tell her.

"You see, woman – "

"Orihime."

Ulquiorra stared down at her, noticing the redness in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes.

"Orihime?" He questioned.

"Yes. That is my name. Not woman – Orihime."

His eyes squinted at her in confusion before he turned and began to storm towards the terrace, his stride looking as if he was trying to hold in his anger.

"Wait!" Orihime said, surprised, as she stepped after him, "You haven't answered me yet!"

Ulquiorra stopped in his tracks, his back to her, as he said "Why would I answer a question like that to a woman as unladylike as you."

"Unladylike!" Orihime shouted, "I'm sorry that I would like to know what is going on! You could kill me if you wanted to! So why not? Why haven't you done it yet? You said you _need _me, but why?"

"Leave me be, woman." He mumbled to her and before she could retort, Ulquiorra had taken to the skies, his black wings outstretched as he glided through the air, above the forest.

Orihime stood there, angry and frustrated. Grimmjow was right, his master was indeed selfish, cold, and uncaring. She didn't even wait for the blue feline to return to the dining room. She didn't feel like she particularly needed a guide through the house.

Independent, she showed herself out of the large room and into another, smaller one, hoping she wouldn't get too lost as she walked through more doors and hallways.

* * *

Ulquiorra had landed on a balcony, which protruded from the tallest tower in his palace. Like clockwork, Grimmjow had been waiting there for him. He looked down at the feline, his face relaxed in a hopeless grimace. Grimmjow couldn't stop himself from looking away from the man before him, the appearance of complete despair unnerving him. Finally, Grimmjow cleared his throat.

"Making her hate you isn't the best way to her heart." The blue animal stated, his eyes darting anywhere except on his life-long friend in front of him.

"What else can I do? She upsets me." Ulquiorra replied. He held his clawed hand up to his face, flexing the digits. He couldn't believe that three years had already passed like this – three years as a demon with no one to turn to for help. Finally, someone – this woman – walks into his life and gives him hope that he may become human again and what does he do? He ruins it.

"Besides," Ulquiorra said as he walked out towards the edge of the balcony, his tail flicking unconsciously as he walked, "Who could ever love a hideous beast like me?"

"Shit, you have to be more optimistic than that." Grimmjow said, scoffing. Ulquiorra, not used to hearing Grimmjow speak to him in such a manner, turned quickly towards him with an angry gleam in his eye. Grimmjow shrank back in fear, before stuttering up a follow-up to his statement.

"What I mean, _sir,_ is that the witch had said that you needed to become selfless in order to break the curse. She's a woman, and in case you didn't know, women are fragile. Think about it, sir, she just lost her brother, is forced to stay in a strange new home with a Lord who has the appearance of a monster and her only companion at the moment is a talking cat. She doesn't feel very… good right now."

Ulquiorra understood. He was a smart man and, with that small push, was able to see how she may feel about her situation. It was strange – before this curse he would dismiss Grimmjow's advice as rubbish, but now… now he found himself listening to the feline religiously.

He hated Grimmjow whenever the two of them were human, but after both being turned into something they weren't, he had become to rely on the man who called him his friend. Ulquiorra, though, had not entirely become softhearted, for there weren't any other of his servants that he felt so much respect towards.

Grimmjow was the only person who's opinion he held in high regards anymore.

"We only have one more year, sir," Grimmjow said, "One more year until this all becomes permanent. She may be out last chance."

"She is not fit to be mine, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra replied, "She is trash. Weak. She has done nothing but sob over her brother since she arrived here."

"And can you blame her! This is a scary thing for her! If you ask me, she's actually handling this very well."

"I do not like her, Grimmjow. She annoys me."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

"Besides," Ulquiorra continued, "I have begun to think that I may wish to stay in this form. I have become so accustom to it. In fact, I hardly remember what it was like to be human. Perhaps I would be happier if I continue with this hideous appearance."

That was enough for Grimmjow. His master had given up, and Grimmjow was not ready to let him. Fuck the consequences. He was tired of all the sadness Ulquiorra brought to the castle.

"God fucking damn it, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra turned to him, anger shown in his eyes, yet Grimmjow held his stance and continued, "You weren't the only one to change that day, obviously. All of us - me, Nel, Starrk - we stayed here by your side even though we could have left. We want to help you, but you have to want to help yourself first, you selfish prick."

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra began, but the feline ignored him.

"Maybe this was what that witch was talking about. Maybe you are a little bitch like she said. Figure out your priorities."

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra remained there, the two of them looking as if they were staring each other down. Grimmjow felt a shock of fear run through him but he kept his strong facade. Grimmjow had never shown this side of him to Ulquiorra and Ulquiorra had never seen Grimmjow get angry, so this sudden outburst came as a surprise to the both of them.

Moments passed and finally, Grimmjow turned towards the stairs, his tail flicking behind him as he walked out of the North Tower, leaving behind a beast with a despairing and guilty look on his face.

* * *

Sora woke up on cold, hard floors. His head was throbbing and he felt his limbs were sore – from what, he had no idea. He looked around, finding himself in an enclosed space. On three sides of him were brick walls, and on the fourth side was a wall of bars – like a prison. A bed sat in the corner and opposite side of it was a hole in the ground for, what Sora believed, his _business_.

But this wasn't a prison. This was the Asylum. Sora knew this place all too well, having visited his mother in this dreadful place multiple times. He felt scared, and rushed to the bars, clasping the iron bars in between his palms.

"Please!" He yelled to the adjacent cells, to the building, to anyone who could hear him, "I'm not crazy! I promise you! There really is a beast! In the forest, in a castle! He has my sister! Please!"

Sora reached his hands through the bars, tears violently falling down his cheeks as he reached in desperation and fear. After minutes of this, he felt his limbs give out and he slid down to the ground, his sobs quieting as he felt his limbs go limp.

Suddenly, he heard a shuffling noise come from the cell across from him. He looked up, his eyes red and puffy from his tears. In the sudden silence, Sora could hear the faint cries of other inmates and he wondered how his mother had survived so long in a place so depressing as this.

He heard the noise again, and looked towards the cell on the other side of the hall. Shadows covered most of the cell, but he could see the faint figure of a man through the dark.

"Did you say beast? In the forest?" Said a shaky voice, a voice that sounded as if they had spent too long confined to this hospital. Sora pressed himself against the bars.

"Yes. Yes I did. Do you know anything about them? Please! I –"

"I know, I know," The voice said. Sora heard a bit more shuffling, the dark figure inching closer and closer to the dim light, "It took your sister, was it?"

Sora gulped, "Yes."

A low chuckle vibrated through the room. It sounded devious and evil, and finally Sora saw a stark-white hand wrap itself around the bars. His eyes widened as the man's face slowly inched into view.

"Don't you worry," He said, cold, golden eyes staring straight at Sora, "I believe you, even if no one else does."

* * *

I am happy to finally bring y'all Chapter Three of _Beast_. Sorry it took so long.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review if you find it in your heart to! Any sort of criticism is welcome! (:


End file.
